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"Pillar, you damn well missed the shot!"

"Get out of here and stick to your wheelchair gun from now on!" Iron Frenzy shoved Battlefield Wheelchair aside, cursing.

He had assumed this guy actually knew how to operate a cannon, but it turned out he was just bluffing, wasting a precious shell for nothing.

Seeing that the commander hadn’t retreated from the wall, Iron Frenzy immediately began recalculating his aim.

The distance wasn’t very far, and the terrain was exceptionally open and simple.

Iron Frenzy quickly ordered,

"Set the firing parameters!"

"Azimuth 27-00, elevation 06-80!"

The ogre acting as the gun mount, "Big-Head," immediately adjusted his position according to the instructions, casting a disdainful look at Battlefield Wheelchair. Meanwhile, the other ogre began loading the shell and setting the fuse.

Battlefield Wheelchair was dumbfounded, unable to intervene, silently thinking, "Did I just get looked down on by an ogre?"

Iron Frenzy, however, had no time for his ego, focusing solely on taking down the elite target. He shouted,

"Ready—fire!"

With a thunderous roar, the shell shot out again, tracing a beautiful arc through the air.

This time, with the calibration adjusted, the shell's trajectory was obviously aimed straight at the commander.

………

At Trow City's tower.

The blackened metal shell descended from the sky, landing precisely beside Count Dawson.

"Boom!"

A deafening explosion echoed.

Shrapnel scattered, and dust filled the air.

Count Dawson was blown off the city tower, landing on the ground as a mangled, charred mass, mixed with fragments of his ancestral armor.

His adjutant and the city defenders beside him were also either dead or severely injured.

Several of the bricks from the blast flew down onto the crowd below, causing more injuries and deaths.

"Oh my god—"

"The Count is dead!"

"Ember Nest has broken through!"

"Help! They’re coming in!"

Refugees scattered, crying and fleeing in panic, even trampling each other in the chaos.

The city defenders were powerless against this. Their Count had been blown to pieces, and many of the defense forces were still stunned by the bombardment, paralyzed with fear.

"What… what do we do?"

"Should we continue following orders?"

"But the Count is dead, and even the captain is gone."

"I don’t know."

The city defenders could only stand by, helpless.

News of the Count's death quickly spread throughout the city, plunging Trow City into chaos. Loyal followers wanted to fight to the death to fulfill the Count’s last wishes, while cowardly nobles sought to survive by surrendering, and even pureblood snake spies were stirring up trouble in the city.

Meanwhile, at Ember Nest’s position.

The Scions were a bit puzzled by the chaos in Trow City, though the players understood perfectly well.

[You killed 【Count Dawson Viller】, gaining 1200xp]

[You defeated an enemy commander, earning 【Ember Nest】 faction contribution 5500]

"Damn, a one-shot kill!"

Iron Frenzy’s eyes widened as he looked at the generous rewards on his screen, elated.

Battlefield Wheelchair whispered, "Boss, how does this ogre understand orders so well and aim so precisely?"

Iron Frenzy sneered, "This ogre is much smarter than you. He even memorized the firing tables for the cannon. It only cost me 300 pounds of raw meat to train him; he’s nothing like you, who can’t aim for crap."

"No way…"

Battlefield Wheelchair felt as if he’d been struck by lightning, muttering in disbelief.

Was he really outsmarted by an ogre?

Iron Frenzy sympathetically patted his shoulder. "You’re not suited for complex stuff. When resources are better, I’ll make you a Type-2 submachine gun. Now, scram."

The ogre "Big-Head" seemed to notice he was the topic of discussion and turned around, his ugly face showing a mocking smile.

Battlefield Wheelchair wiped the sweat from his brow, trying to change the topic. He suddenly cheered, "Boss, you’re awesome—fire another shot!"

"Let’s give them a little shock and awe!"

Unexpectedly, the hobgoblin commander Dolo, leader of the siege, was drawn by the noise and personally came over, asking if these Stardrop Players could blast the city wall down directly.

"Probably not."

Iron Frenzy scratched his head awkwardly.

He patted the overheated cannon barrel, and with a crisp crack, the metal barrel burst open, the muzzle blooming like a flower, wisps of smoke rising.

"This was just a prototype, brought over for testing."

"It could only fire twice at most."

It was certainly not because he’d cut corners, secretly using Ember Nest’s allocated mithril to make armor instead, and replacing the mortar barrel with inferior metal—Iron Frenzy silently vowed never to tell anyone.

By the time half a day had passed, the chaos within the city began to subside.

Dolo was somewhat disappointed but looked at the towering city wall with a cruel smile.

"The Master said to maintain order within the city."

"But if they refuse to surrender, there’s nothing I can do—"

A hint of savagery flashed in his eyes; it was rumored that the Master would personally come to this siege, so he intended to show off his valor and loyalty, making enemies tremble at the mention of his name.

"Boom—"

Yet, just as he was imagining this, the heavy city gates slowly opened.

A white flag waved from the tall city tower.

The unbreached Trow City, held for a century, was so easily taken. Ember Nest paid only two shells for it—one of which even missed.

Under Dolo's command, the orderly hobgoblin and lizardmen troops entered the city first, followed by players, while potentially disruptive forces like ogres and wyverns were stationed outside.

The gates opened, and Ember Nest’s army marched in orderly ranks.

The once bustling streets were now empty, though behind cracks in doors and windows, fearful and anxious eyes occasionally peeked out.

After Count Dawson’s death, the highest-ranking official in the city was the Deputy Lord, Viscount Burley, who now stood at the gate, humbly welcoming Ember Nest’s forces. Facing the tall, vicious Dolo, his whole body trembled with fear.

"My… my lord, on behalf of all the citizens of Trow City, I welcome your arrival."

"Good."

Dolo grinned, his scaly face attempting a friendly smile.

But it had the opposite effect, causing the Viscount to tremble even more, terrified that this dragonborn hobgoblin would tear him apart in a rage.

"People often see Trow City’s fall as a great shame, a complete farce. But to me, this is merely an extension of the Battle of Trier’s outcome. If the allied forces hadn’t been wiped out, if those citizens filled with bloodlust had returned to Trow, the process would never have been like this."

—The Fall of Trow City, 《History of the Duchy》, by Duke Luton

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